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~ An expression you constantly make out of habit when a picture is being taken. If you have a consistent camera face all your pictures have the exact same expression in them. Usually, not a natural smile.

The power of the camera lies not within its ability to ‘make or break’ one’s night nor does it serve as a tool of destruction for your best friend since everyone is bestowed with ‘those’ kind of pictures on their almighty electronic devices. The power of the camera resides within the ability of the wielder.

Serving the dark lord himself, we wreak havoc among all activities and snap the greatest jewels of all time; the ‘Oh-my-god-.-please-delete-that’ picture. For girls this usually is a fish-face, pursed lip, Victoria Beckham-like pout or a seductive, "I'm-hot-and-I-know-it" toothless smile (more often than not to hide braces). For guys it is usually a tough guy, serious face with a slight upwards tilt of the head in a "hey-how-you-doin " kind of way. However, most of the time this rebellious prime fails miserably, adequately turning into the portrayal of a lifetime; one dropping his or her pride, finally walking up to the girl/boy you have lingered for, and satisfactorily fuck up through an energetic yet drunk rant concerning your humongous, sweaty and sticky chest famously stripped of its somewhat thematic yet slutty clothing.

The essence of this picture, again, is not the fatal destiny you have worked yourself into, it is the drama containment afterwards. The moment you wake up, take a good look in the mirror, knowingly that it was a humongous mistake to take a look in the mirror, look back at your phone and see that the pictures are uploaded, you obviously psychologically prepare yourself for the worst. You see flashbacks of you in your ecstasy; your mind flashes short animated movies of your personal drunk roadshow, hitting you like a train (could be because of the delirium tremens).

You take a seat. As. Slowly. As. Possible. Repeatedly declaring your actions of yesterday as ‘permitted’. You lean towards your uncharged smartphone, since drunk you figured that the ol’ wallet needed some charging as well. Following, you find yourself in an ambiguous situation; those photos decently describe your past evening. Your drunk ‘flow’ of dancing, you and your possy striking a 90’s rap album pose, you and your ‘nightly-10-but-sober-5.5’ licking it away in the darkest corner of the room ~which coincidentally was the middle of the dance floor~ at each other framed into those flamboyant portrayals.

Even though regrets and uneasiness flourishes through your mind, sprouting new scenarios in your head how you could always emigrate and live in Mexico under your new alias; Juan(ita). Meanwhile, your clique is likewise gradually rising from their grave. Standard stories; The puker, the swallower, the I-forgot-the-condom, the one you brought home, the one who brought you home, the back-alley-quickdraw, the I-am-never-drinking again and the ever so funny I-made-a-huge-mistake. You know, basic stories.

Slowly but surely everyone takes notice of yesterday’s assembly of devastation, the harbingers of doom; the pictures. You blurt out to your loving and caring roommate ,uncertain yet with a tat of drifiting drunk prowess, that maybe ‘your friends’ will miss ‘those’ pictures, but you were never so wrong. In a matter of minutes the group photo changed about 6 to 7 times. It started off gently with the initial group picture followed by zoom-ins on especially your face, your tongue wrestle competition and the icing on the cake; the promise of you being able to handle a couple more tequila suicides. You feel shame, but most importantly a smile just set on your amazing camera face.

That is what pictures do, pictures bring people together. That’s why photographs exist; to capture a moment that’s gone forever, impossible to reproduce. There are no bad pictures; that’s just how your face looks sometimes. This, in short, shows everyone why we do what we do; take pictures.